Serendipity
by MyFirstistheFourth
Summary: *Written for the 2107 Ron/Draco-Better Together Fest* Ron felt the, now, familiar swell of excitement as he accepted his drink from Scout, the bartender, and turned on his stool to face the stage; the pulse of arousal in his groin and his inevitable frustration already the foregone conclusion he had come to expect: the price he paid for his obsession. Post-War AU.


He blamed the twins; truly, he did. He should not be here. Not again. Not after the confrontation. He should have had the good sense to forget about this place. But here he was, late and with the main attraction already performing. Ron felt the, now, familiar swell of excitement as he accepted his drink from Scout, the bartender, and turned on his stool to face the stage; the pulse of arousal in his groin and his inevitable frustration already the foregone conclusion he had come to expect: the price he paid for his obsession.

{*} {*} {*}

"But why do I have to go?" Ron groused about the latest assignment Fred and George expected him to do in their stead. "You two always handle the suppliers. They don't even know me!" He was grateful for his job, and he did enjoy working with them, for the most part, pranksters though they still were. But he could never be sure when he was being set up...like now.

Well used to Ron's often contentious nature, Fred changed tactics. "Look, we regret that we can't see them this time. We always have a blast when we meet up. But we have a prior commitment that we simply can't get out of."

George nodded in agreement, having adopted his most mournful expression at Fred's words. He picked up the persuasion as soon as Fred paused. "Come on, it's not as though you have any plans for the evening, little brother. You could do with a nice meal and some entertainment. It will do you good to get your ruddy arse out of the flat for a change, and a tad of business is the only price you'll have to pay."

Ron strongly suspected that Fred and George's "prior commitment" had to do with Neville's return from a three-month herbology apprenticeship in India. The three of them probably wouldn't make it out of the bedroom all weekend. He couldn't say he blamed them for wanting to get him out of the flat. Ron didn't begrudge his friend and his brothers their happiness; he just hated being the default choice because he didn't have anyone for himself, even if that was mostly his own fault.

It was easy enough to maintain the status quo as long as Hermione was around. Easy to pretend. He did love her, but things never seemed to make it past the good friends stage, and they both knew it. Still, when she left for foreign studies in magical law, the convenient buffer was gone, and the truth became harder and harder to ignore. He had managed to ignore it for years, the truth that he was far more interested in Harry than he could ever manage to be in Hermione. Without her around, watching Harry with Ginny bordered on painful, and his temper flared at the slightest things. After one outburst due to a trivial foul had ruined a good game of Quidditch, ending in yelling and tears, he had approached the twins about a job and a change in residence for his sanity. If he hadn't left the Burrow, he would have destroyed his relationships with Harry and Ginny.

The job and the distance did help. Harry could have the life he always wanted, and Ron could be happy for him...eventually.

But Ron still found himself at loose ends, trying to figure things out for himself. He had spent so much time fixated on Harry or trying to make a go of it with Hermione, not to mention the whole war situation, that he hadn't bothered exploring other options. It had become obvious that guys were the only gender that truly caught his attention and imagination. He hadn't looked at a girl with real interest since school; even his time with Lavender when he was young, hormonal, and eager had only amounted to a lot of snogging. To this day, his friends didn't know she had never satisfied the underlying need he felt but couldn't name.

At least, the twins didn't give him much grief though they did try to get him to go out with them from time to time; their constant refrain being, 'How will you ever find anyone if you don't get out and look.' Along with Neville, they were a living, breathing example of how good things could be if he ever managed to step out and find someone. Fred and George were right; he needed to get out for a bit. A night out might be just the thing.

"Fine. I'll go."

{*} {*} {*}

Sitting between Marcus and Tyrone in a black leather booth, Ron fidgeted in his seat, nursing his second drink after downing the first. When he realized he had entered a gay men's club, his first instinct was to walk right back out. However, he reminded himself that he was surrounded by Muggles, not a single reporter from a Wizarding rag in sight, and relaxed. He was woefully short on experience so he decided to be open-minded about the evening instead.

Marcus and Tyrone were indeed relaxed and fun-loving as Fred and George had said, though his brothers forgot to mention how handsy they were.

"This is our favorite place," Marcus had enthused, patting Ron's knee. "Wonderful food and the entertainment is to die for."

Ron had no objections to a good meal, but he couldn't decide where to focus his attention to avoid dealing with potentially unwelcome arousal. There were topless waiters in skintight trousers or shorts every way he turned, and several dancers were gyrating onstage in various stages of peeling off their clothes.

Ron still felt like he might have been set up; especially when he caught his hosts sizing him up as though _he_ were dessert. He had tried to focus their attention on business and the contract he was supposed to get signed, but they were having none of it, pushing the papers away, enthusing about the star attraction that he just _had_ to see. Apparently, this astounding act would come after their dinner.

His meal arrived fifteen minutes after the waiter, Will, as he had introduced himself as, took his order, and it was indeed delicious. Ron forgot much of his nerves as they ate and chatted, though his drink had some effect also.

Their meal had been cleared, and a third drink appeared in front of Ron just as the lights began to dim. As the crowd hushed and turned their focus to the main stage, the music changed to a sultry jazz, increasing in volume gradually. Though dark and bare, the stage held their rapt attention. The soft chant 'Dra-gon! Dra-gon!' swelled from the audience.

Ron must have looked as confused as he felt because Marcus gripped his bicep firmly as Tyrone's hand landed on his thigh. "Dragon is the hottest exotic dancer in London. Everyone wants him, but practically no one gets near him. You'll see; he's unbelievable!"

"Absolutely exquisite!" Tyrone chimed in, leaning against Ron as though he needed support. A small look passed between the two men, and Tyrone eased off a bit as Marcus continued.

"He does all of these different routines, costumes and all, a different theme each performance so you almost never see the same show. I can hardly wait to see what it will be tonight."

Just then a spotlight snapped on, bathing center stage in a soft filtered light as mist drifted in from fog machines. There was a man, propped casually against a vertical pole, which was disguised as a lamppost. He was tall and lean but quite fit. Swathed in a dark suit, well tailored to fit his frame; revealing or hiding those features he chose as he waited with his hands tucked into his pockets. His head was tilted down; his hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail beneath the dark fedora perched upon his head and pulled low over the brow, hiding all his facial features save for his mouth.

The crowd was going wild, along with Marcus and Tyrone, applauding and cheering, but the man didn't move, letting the audience take in his silhouette. Nothing had even happened, yet Ron found himself leaning forward in his seat, craning his neck for a better look, a suspicious twitch of interest from his cock not escaping his notice—or Tyrone's. This was not the evening out that he had expected, but his curiosity was piqued.

Ron managed to catch glimpses of the dancer's sharp jawline and of strands of his blond hair, which appeared almost white under the bright stage lights. Emerald studs pierced each earlobe in striking contrast to the man's alabaster skin.

There was something about the man that struck Ron as familiar even though he knew they couldn't have ever met since he was a Muggle. Perhaps it was simply that the man had the lean, slightly muscled figure he tended to favor, similar to Harry's. Nevertheless, something about the dancer had him practically ignoring his hosts in lieu of focusing on the seductive form before him.

With the next refrain of the music, Dragon pushed off from the pole and began to stroll downstage towards his eager audience, hips swaying with the sensual beat. Slipping free of their pockets, Dragon's pale hands made a pointed contrast against his midnight blue suit as they slid smoothly over his body like a lover's caress. A flick of one foot, then the other, sent his leather loafers to the side of the stage before he spun around, releasing the button of his jacket, flashes of white whetting the audience's appetite for more. Dragon played with his admirers, teasing the jacket off his shoulders one at a time before pulling it back on, clutching it closed then opening it wide, finally slipping it from his shoulders and allowing it to spill behind him onto the stage.

Then Dragon undulated his hips as he lowered himself to his knees, pelvis pumping up and down as he leaned back slowly, displaying his strength and control. Dragon's nimble fingers released the catch on the leather belt circling his narrow waist, pulling until it slid from the loops of his trousers with a soft hiss. The crowd surged against the stage, cheering as Dragon whipped the leather strap to either side of his body with a loud snap that was echoed by his hips. The belt fell to the stage as the tease continued, Dragon palming the front of his trousers blatantly before his wicked fingers made their way down the row of buttons on the crisp white shirt he wore.

The throng moaned as though in pain at the slow reveal while Dragon smirked beneath the brim of his hat. Ron couldn't explain why that smirk sent a jolt of raw lust through him, but he caught himself biting back a soft groan as the throbbing in his trousers grew more pronounced.

They were all waiting for the shirt to fall, revealing more of his toned body beneath, yet Dragon foiled them again. One pale hand slid beneath the loose edge of his shirt, rubbing and teasing his nipple, while the other hand rubbed over his clothed cock in three hard, sure strokes; his mouth rounded in ecstasy as though moaning with the pleasure his masturbation brought.

The audience roared their adulation and approval.

"Stunning, isn't he?" Tyrone whispered into Ron's ear. Tyrone's hand, still on Ron's thigh, was now trailing closer to the pronounced hardness he was certain could use some relief. Ron spared a glance and a nod for his host, surprising himself when he didn't object to the idea of what Tyrone so clearly had in mind. Be open-minded, he reminded himself, turning his attention back to the stage, where he was completely diverted by Dragon.

Dragon was on his feet again, his back to the audience as he slowly peeled his white shirt from one shoulder and slid an arm free. The bare arm made a wave from shoulder to wrist before curling back towards Dragon's body; his free hand helping to ease the shirt off of the other shoulder and arm. Something about the movement of that arm, the flourish of that hand, struck Ron with a strong sense of deja vu, but he dismissed the thought, more interested in the here and now.

Ron's mouth felt dry as his excitement mounted. He lifted his glass to his lips only to choke on the whiskey as Dragon turned around, whipping the shirt around over his head as he swiveled his hips and thrust his groin, further inciting the onlookers. Both of his nipples were pierced, silver posts with rounded ends protruding from the dusky, erect nipples. Ron couldn't take his eyes off of them. His cock throbbed hard as he wondered what it would feel like to touch them, lick them, suck them into his mouth. He wanted to take another swallow of his drink, but before he could, Dragon slid the shirt between his legs, thrusting against it in an excellent imitation of sex. Ron found himself spellbound.

He was doomed, the desire to know who Dragon was, a palpable thing. Ron had never felt such a visceral pull toward another person, not even Harry. He watched as Dragon's lithe body undulated from chest to feet, his movements hypnotizing the crowd as if he were a snake charmer entrancing a snake; Dragon controlled the room.

Spinning around, Dragon bent over to display his rounded bum. His hands slid over his calves, then thighs, before reaching his arse, offering the crowd the squeeze they craved with his own hands. The cheer this action caused had hardly begun to die down before he removed his trousers with a strategic jerk, rending the garment from his long legs with the rip of velcro. A flash of pert cheeks and a dark thong was all Ron managed to glimpse before Dragon spun and slid down to the stage in a controlled side split. Once he sat stretched out on the stage, Dragon leaned forward, resting his weight on his forearms as he bounced, thrusting his groin against the stage to a chorus of moans from his fans.

A gasp escaped Ron's throat at that point thanks to Tyrone's hand finding its way into his trousers, wrapping around his cock. The steady pressure was a welcome relief, and he sighed in pleasure as he continued to focus on Dragon while Tyrone worked his shaft, applying just the right amount of pressure, focusing on the most sensitive areas of his cock.

Once more putting his strength on display, Dragon pushed himself up until he was on his hands and knees, alternately prowling toward his ravenous fans and pumping his hips against the stage in rolling circles, mimicking the sex most of the crowd wanted to be engaged in with him, judging by their moans and hoots. Ron could admit he was one of them, as readily as he could agree that Dragon was indeed exceptional.

Dragon continued to do things with his body that would be impossible for most men, skillfully feeding the desires and fantasies of his admiring throng while Tyrone drew Ron to the edge over and over again. Ron gave up trying to remain quiet, letting sounds fall from his lips as he was pulled along in Dragon's wake.

As Dragon's right hand gripped the brim of his fedora and his left snapped in time with the music, he rose to his feet and executed a spin, ending up facing the crowd. Ron had the passing thought that the hat must be stuck on with magic to have maintained its perch for the duration before reminding himself he was in a Muggle club. As though Dragon knew what Ron was thinking, he tipped off the hat, revealing his face at last, along with his head of platinum blond hair.

Ron's orgasm washed over him without warning. He watched, shuddering through his completion as the hat rolled down Dragon's arm, his fingers catching it before bringing it down to cover his most private area. A coy smile spread across Dragon's face before he feigned a demure pose, one hand drifting behind his back with a cheeky wink. A quick shimmy, a bump, and a swirl of hips ending in a pelvic thrust, and his thong now hung from one slim finger.

The crowd roared and wolf whistled as they beat the stage and stomped their feet. Dragon spun the thong around his finger and sent it sailing into the crowd, blowing a kiss as he disappeared behind the curtain, modesty still intact. The end came well before anyone was ready to let Dragon go.

Ron sat frozen in shock—not because of the stunning orgasm he had just experienced at the hand of a man, or even the fight that had broken out over the discarded thong—but because he found himself staring at the retreating arse of Draco Malfoy. He was struggling to reconcile the fact that he had just cum in his pants while watching _Draco Malfoy_ enthrall, not only him, but an entire club of Muggles by... dancing and _stripping_. And quite expertly, he thought, but he couldn't figure out why. Ron shuddered, his eyes falling closed as the aftershocks overtook him, and a fundamental shift in his world occurred: He, Ron "the Weasel" Weasley wanted Draco "the Ferret" Malfoy; he had no idea what to do with that revelation.

Ron came back to himself with a flush of embarrassment. Tyrone was licking cum from his fingers while Marcus, looking on in interest, draped his arm along the booth behind Ron's shoulders and leaned in close. "Oh, you are a treat, Ron. We're glad your brothers sent you along tonight. Would you care to continue the evening at our place and get...better acquainted?"

Ron blushed clear to his toes as he sorted himself. "Not that I haven't enjoyed myself, immensely." He nodded at Tyrone with a small smile of thanks. "But this is all a bit new to me, and I think I've had enough excitement for tonight. If you would be kind enough to sign the contracts for me, I'll just be on my way."

Marcus shrugged his shoulders and reached for his pen while Tyrone looked disappointed, but soon enough, Ron had the signed papers in hand and was making his farewells. "Thank you both, for the meal and the...entertainment." He glanced pointedly at Tyrone. "It was most enlightening."

"The pleasure was all ours; I assure you," Marcus purred. "Give us a call if you'd like to get together again. Dragon performs every weekend, and we seldom miss a show."

With a strained smile, Ron nodded and shook their hands, uncertain if he would ever take them up on their offer as he left with far more questions than he had answers for. Had the twins been here before? Did they know about Malfoy? Had the whole evening been a setup or had it just been a fluke, an odd amalgam of circumstances? Ron wasn't even sure he wanted to know the answers. He needed some time to sort his head, and he genuinely hoped Malfoy had not been able to see him in the audience. But that thought led to more questions. Why was he doing this? He didn't need the money. And there was money; stagehands had swept a heaping pile of Muggle currency from the stage floor thanks to the generosity of the raucous crowd. And why a Muggle club? Well...that wasn't so much a question; Ron couldn't imagine Malfoy getting away with such an act within the Magical community. Still, he just couldn't wrap his head around most of it, so he tried to put the whole evening out of his mind, wanting to forget about Dragon and the club.

{*} {*} {*}

For the next week, Ron tossed and turned at night; his dreams filled with memories of Draco dancing, along with scenarios he had never experienced but, now, certainly wished to. It all amounted to an aching need to see Malfoy perform as Dragon again.

Even Fred and George had noticed his distracted behavior. When Ron had delivered the contracts without comment, the twins had exchanged knowing smiles and said nothing.

Ron was hesitant to contact Marcus, knowing the expectations he and Tyrone might have for the evening. Still, since he wasn't comfortable going to the club alone and also because he had enjoyed himself well enough the last time, he went ahead and made the call.

So that Saturday, Ron found himself back at the club, forcing down his dinner and making small talk while he waited for the show to begin. As he listened to Tyrone rave about Dragon's various acts and costumes, he realized these men, this crowd of fans, only knew the performer onstage. He alone knew Dragon's true identity, the privileged pureblood wizard hiding behind the dancer's persona. He alone had grown up with Malfoy. He alone knew the wizard, who had always been his nemesis.

But the man he remembered was so unlike the man he would be seeing on stage in a few minutes. He realized he had no idea who 'Dragon' was; perhaps he didn't know Malfoy either. He didn't know this man who danced with such confidence and abandon, capturing the imaginations of all who saw him, so unlike the angry serious youth of the war days. He knew without a doubt that he wanted to know the man as a whole; how had a git like Draco Malfoy become the fun, enchanting, and sexy Dragon. Which one was real?

The lights dimmed prompting Marcus and Tyrone to slide closer to Ron, who ignored them for the most part, doubting he would object to anything they would do in public; he didn't think so at any rate.

Focusing his attention on the stage to take in every moment, he leaned forward, licking his lips. As a foreign melody began filtering through the speakers, Ron noted its rhythmic drums and cymbals as well as the more esoteric instruments he could not name.

Applause erupted but the stage remained bare except for a soft light shining on the center stage curtain. The light began to drift down, and the crowd's cheering only grew louder.

Finally, from the curtain's opening, one slim foot appeared; decorated with henna tattoos, jewels on several toes, and golden bangles around the ankle. The disembodied foot flexed and pointed, gliding softly across the stage floor before disappearing behind the curtain.

The crowd groaned its displeasure and chanted for more. Within a matter of beats, one long leg appeared, swathed in emerald and gold silk with splits up the side to reveal the sinewy muscle of thigh and calf as the leg stretched out, rising from the floor until Ron was certain Dragon must have disjointed a hip. Once more, the leg disappeared as the tempo of the music built to a driving beat.

On a rolling crescendo, the curtains parted, and Dragon was revealed in all of his glory, his hips undulating to the primal rhythm as he moved downstage. Henna and an assortment of rings also decorated his pale hands as they writhed and rotated, golden zills chiming as his fingers snapped together in time with his movements. A large oval emerald defied gravity where it sat nestled in Dragon's naval, catching the light with every shimmy and roll of his lean abdomen. A vest embroidered with elaborate designs in gold and covered with crystals rested over his firm chest, covering his delicious nipples.

A thick golden chain dripping with small round coins circled his narrow hips and tinkled with every twitch or shake Dragon made. His loose silken pants were augmented with silken scarves draped to obscure the view of his arse and his groin. Most of Dragon's facial features were hidden beneath a silk veil, its edges embroidered to match the vest with small emeralds and lapis lazuli placed to accent the design. Those piercing gray eyes, lined heavily with kohl, were the only thing visible but they sparkled with mystery and mischief as they flashed from one person to another, drawing everyone into the spell of his dance.

Ron watched as Dragon performed a dance he had not seen since the family trip to Egypt. He could hardly believe it was the uptight Malfoy heir he was seeing, his breath catching in his throat at Dragon's athleticism and sensuality on display before him. He had seen women belly dancing before, but he could never have imagined how brilliant a man's body could look doing the same moves.

Ron barely managed to catch Marcus' pointed nod to Tyrone in time to prevent him from shouting as his companion slid beneath the table, making short work of his trousers before swallowing down his rapidly swelling cock. He fought to stay quiet, his astonished gaze meeting Marcus' smug one as wet heat and suction provided stimulation he had only ever imagined.

Panting, Ron turned his attention back to Dragon; his awareness of the room narrowed sharply to contain only himself and the man onstage, almost as though this was a private dance, and that thought sent a possessive thrill down his spine. Ron watched in awe as Dragon's spins, dips, and turns became more complicated as the pace of the music grew faster.

Dragon managed to perform his striptease while still keeping up with every change of tempo, scarves flying as he appeared to dare the music to try and stop him, laughing out loud when it failed to do so.

Out of sight, Tyrone's bobbing mouth also managed to keep pace with the music, but Ron's attention was fastened on the two coins dangling, one each, from their respective loops in Dragon's nipples. As Tyrone sucked hard on Ron's length, Dragon removed the last scarf hanging from his waist, revealing a jeweled codpiece, and Ron came apart. He spilled his orgasm down Tyrone's throat with Marcus's hand tugging firmly on his nipples even as he imagined Draco on his knees, that smirking mouth wrapped around his cock instead. With a frenzied crescendo of music and movement, Dragon whipped off his veil, blowing a kiss to his adoring fans. He bowed to rapturous applause, then disappeared behind the curtain.

The stage blurred before Ron, lost in a hazy afterglow. He slumped back against Marcus' arm, watching without comment as Tyrone emerged from underneath the table, the man looking every bit like the cat who got the cream. _Literally_ , Ron's mind supplied, his thought bringing an inappropriate smile to his lips.

Tyrone licked his lips with an answering smile before Marcus drew him across Ron's lap for a thorough snog. Ron thought he had a pretty clear idea of just how their relationship worked. When Marcus released Tyrone, he gripped Ron's chin, holding him in place to kiss him next. Tasting himself on another man's lips was a novel experience Ron couldn't say he didn't enjoy.

Tyrone and Marcus made another invitation, but Ron declined again. As pleasurable as it had been, Ron couldn't picture himself fitting into their dynamic in any lasting fashion.

Besides, he wanted Draco.

{*} {*} {*}

Ron didn't call Marcus or Tyrone again, but that didn't mean he stopped going to the club. He simply steered clear of them, watching Dragon from the bar instead and leaving as soon as the show was over. He was unsurprised when it didn't take the twosome long to find a new player for their games, leaving Ron free to enjoy Dragon. And enjoy, he did.

He became more productive at work because he wanted his weekends free. When he skipped out of family dinners to get to a show, the twins, along with everyone else, thought he must have met someone. They ribbed him endlessly, but Ron said nothing. No one was surprised they hadn't met Ron's mystery person, assuming it was too early. Even seeing Harry and Ginny no longer bothered him, his mind well and truly absorbed with Malfoy.

Ron even decided to follow him one night after a show; his many unanswered questions needing some form of resolution.

When Draco left the club with two other dancers, Ron squashed down a sudden surge of jealousy even though the trio only displayed camaraderie. He kept expecting Draco to excuse himself and Disapparate, but instead, the trio disappeared into a flat located well within Muggle London.

Ron wanted to know more, but he was stymied at that point, barring the use of a bit of magic. Since he didn't want to end up explaining what he had been doing to an Auror, possibly even Harry, he went home, still with more questions than answers.

Ron thought he must now be as familiar with Dragon's routines as Marcus and Tyrone had been, if not more so. He was pretty sure he had seen them all. The belly dancer costume was still his favorite by far, while the sexy professor ensemble was far too easy to plug into his fantasies, but the leather outfit complete with an emerald studded collar caused all kinds of new fantasies he had never entertained before.

Watching Dragon dance in the leather get-up for the first time had sent Ron running to the loo for a desperate wank as soon as it was over. No performance was ever the same, Draco changing his moves naturally or altering the music. Even the most subtle changes affected the tone of the performance, but it was always thrilling.

When Dragon appeared on a foggy stage for Halloween wearing his Slytherin robes and a pointed hat, his wand sheathed in a leather holster at his hip, Ron was terrified the Ministry would be arresting Malfoy for breaking the Statute of Secrecy. But it was all part of the act. Draco waved his wand some; a few sparks, some flames and puffs of smoke, all provided by the stagehands as the "wizard" stripped. One thing was for certain, Ron would never look at those robes the same way again.

{*} {*} {*}

Ron was bundled against the late October chill as he headed for the Apparition point after the show when he was jerked into an alley and shoved against a brick wall, a wand pressed to his throat.

"You can tell Potter to piss off, Weasley!" Draco hissed in Ron's face while he tried to process what was going on. His confusion must have been clear because Draco tilted his head and narrowed his eyes studying the redhead closely. "What are you doing here?"

Ron couldn't admit that he had been here to see Draco strip so he blurted out the first thing that crossed his mind. "Got lost, actually." He managed to chuckle, forcing an abashed grin onto his face.

Draco took a step back, keeping his wand raised as he gazed at Ron in annoyance. "Lost, huh?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, Ron nodded. "Yeah," he replied, avoiding Draco's scrutiny by staring down at this boots.

"Do you think I was in Slytherin for nothing? Do you honestly think I didn't see you, front and center, playing special-of-the-day with Marcus and Tyrone? Or skulking at the bar night after night?"

Ron's head jerked up in surprise, his face an unattractive shade of red, his mouth opening and shutting as he attempted to formulate a reasonable reply. Of course, reasonable wasn't what came out. "How could you possibly see me!"

Draco laughed, not the cold sneering laugh Ron knew from school, but a warm engaging laugh of true amusement. Ron couldn't help thinking that he really wanted to hear more of that laugh.

Grinning, Draco snorted. "You must be kidding me.".

Ron shrugged.

"You should know I can spot Weasley red anywhere. The stage lights only make your ginger head stand out more."

"Oh," Ron uttered, biting back a groan when he realized that Draco had known every single time he had visited the club. Ron clammed up, shoving his hands deep into his jacket pockets to keep from fidgeting, unsure of what to do now and incapable of having a normal conversation with the man of his desires.

Draco just smirked and pocketed his wand into the dark Muggle jeans Ron had only just noticed clinging to Draco's long legs in a most distracting fashion.

"So what are you doing here if Potter didn't send you to spy?"

Ron shrugged again, unable to meet Draco's gaze as he answered. "Harry doesn't know anything about this." He looked up to gauge how Draco took that statement, meeting those gray eyes at last. "I came to see the show." He tilted his chin up, challenging Draco to make something out of his interest.

A familiar smirk spread across Draco's face as he crossed his arms over his chest and cocked an eyebrow at Ron. "Am I supposed to be flattered?"

"No!" Ron exclaimed, feeling flustered. "You asked what I was doing here, and I answered. Take it however you like." He huffed in and out as he tried to calm himself. "Look. When I came here the first time, I didn't even know about—" he gesticulated at Draco "— _this_. It wasn't like I was looking for you." Ron's shoulders slumped. Draco Malfoy would never be flattered by any interest shown by a Weasley. What was he even thinking being interested in him?

"Serendipity," Draco whispered to himself too low for Ron to catch it. There was a twinge of disappointment on Draco's face when he heard Ron's explanation but he covered it asking, "So, how exactly did you get mixed up with Marcus and Tyrone?"

"Business meeting." Draco snorted and Ron smiled. "They supply raw materials for Fred and George's products." Draco's eyebrow rose in question again, and Ron answered. "I've been working with them for nearly a year now. They sent me to get contracts signed, and this is where I was brought for dinner."

Draco nodded then bluntly offered his opinion. "Your brothers are gits. They should have warned you about those two before they sent you."

"Agreed. I'm sure they thought I needed a night out badly enough that it justified glossing over the finer points. Probably figured I'd object if they told me the truth."

"And would you have? Objected, I mean?"

"At the time...yes. Probably so."

Draco smirked again, though it was softer and tinged with humor. "Well, you certainly appeared to be enjoying yourself when I saw you." Ron's face heated and he pressed his lips firmly together, saying nothing as Draco continued. "Guess you didn't fancy being their newest toy." Ron shook his head slightly, too embarrassed to look up again. "You're smarter than I gave you credit for then."

Ron's head snapped up, uncertain if that was a compliment or an insult, one could never be too sure with Malfoy. Feeling defensive, he couldn't help his rather sarcastic response. "Am I supposed to be flattered?"

A slow smile spread across Draco's face, and a strange expression flashed through his eyes before Ron could make sense of it. "Perhaps." Draco turned and left without another word.

Ron didn't know what to make of the whole incident; he turned it over in his mind, looking for every conceivable angle he thought Malfoy could be playing but came up empty.

{*} {*} {*}

Ron argued with himself so much over returning tonight that he ended up arriving late. When he slipped into a spot at the bar, waving to Scout for the usual, Draco was already onstage. Ron sucked in his breath as he watched Dragon dance; it never failed to strike him hard, somewhere behind his navel.

Tonight was apparently Leather Night, and Dragon had never looked hotter: leather hiking boots, black fishnets, short shorts so tight they looked painted onto his divine arse, leather straps crisscrossing his pale chest while wrist cuffs and a collar completed the look. Ron had a particular fondness for the silver chain that hung between Draco's pert nipples, each end of the chain dangling from a hoop instead of the studs, tonight.

Ron's fantasies were filled with images of Draco's nipples, black leather, and that chain. As he watched, Ron realized something was different this evening. Dragon was different. As always, his dance was a perfect, lust-inducing fantasy, his motions fierce in their execution. Ron studied him a while longer and realized what it was: Dragon seemed angry.

As Ron continued to watch, he couldn't help wondering what Draco was angry about, and if it had anything to do with last night. His thoughts distracted him from the dance, leaving Ron feeling dissatisfied when Dragon left the stage.

With a sigh, Ron turned back to the bar, downing his drink and sitting the glass down with a clunk as he rose to leave.

"Mister Weasley?" Ron turned to see a bouncer wearing a tight black t-shirt, a name tag pinned over his prominent left peck with the name GUNNAR. "If you'll come this way, sir. Your room is ready."

"My...wait, what?" He had no idea what Gunnar was talking about, but the brute wasn't waiting around to give him any answers either. He had turned and was moving away, expecting Ron to keep up without further input. Curious but cautious, Ron discreetly checked for his wand, well hidden in an arm holster, and followed Gunnar deeper into the club to a corridor he had never been down before.

They stopped in front of a door marked with the number ten, Gunnar opening it and motioning Ron inside without comment before closing the door behind him.

Ron glanced around the small room, a loveseat covered in red leather and a side table with a lamp sitting against one wall. He waited to see what was happening but preferred to remain on his feet and at the ready. Arms crossed over his chest, he leaned against the far wall facing the door, only to be surprised when Draco breezed in.

Ron knew his mouth hung open like a fish, but he couldn't help himself. Draco was right in front of him, still dressed in the outfit he had worn onstage earlier, the chain dangling from his nipples proving to have a near-hypnotic hold over Ron before he shook his head and mustered his voice to speak.

"Did you want to see me? What's with all the mystery?"

The expression Draco wore was odd, a slight smile crossing his face before disappearing behind the mask that appeared to be Dragon. "Please, won't you sit down? You'll be more comfortable."

Ron was puzzled by the non-answer but found himself lowering his arms and moving towards the sofa, his eyes never leaving Draco as his host nodded his approval and crossed the room to access a hidden panel on the wall.

Draco fiddled with the controls Ron had failed to notice until the lights in the room dimmed and low seductive music began to filter through the hidden speakers. Ron opened his mouth to speak again only to be shushed by Draco as Dragon began to dance. Dragon's current dance every bit as engrossing as his onstage performances, Ron watched with rapt attention as Dragon moved closer.

The knowing smile on Dragon's face reminded Ron that he had not accounted for his usual state of arousal when watching a performance. Dragon was much closer than usual, no protective distance of the stage separating them, making him very much aware of Ron's swelling cock. Ron could not prevent the flush of embarrassment, and his hand twitched, instinctively wanting to cover his impertinent erection.

Dragon smirked, his body swaying before he dropped into a low crouch, grinding his hips up and down. Then he prowled towards Ron on his hands and knees. The look in his eye was predatory as his arse swayed invitingly, but his expression was what Ron found unsettling; Dragon's lips curled, not with the warmth he had seen last night, but with the coldness Ron had long been familiar with from Draco. He was certain that only Draco could cause him to be aroused and uncomfortable at the same time.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Draco's palms pushing his thighs further apart. Draco slid his head up between Ron's legs, prompting Ron to suck in a breath. Continuing to move until he stood before Ron, Draco trailed his hands over his body before turning around and bending forward. Ron bit his lip hard to keep from moaning at the arse now on display right in front of him, watching those hands gliding over fishnet to cup the lush globes as Draco let out a very suggestive moan.

Ron was having trouble reconciling Draco with Dragon while trying to make sense of what was happening at the same time. Just as he was forming a coherent question, Draco began to circle his hips low over Ron's lap, the cheeks of his arse just brushing across Ron's clothed erection. His hands reached for Draco's hips in reflex—maybe self-defense—a garbled choking sound escaping from his throat.

Ron's fingers barely grazed Draco's narrow hips before Draco spun around to straddle Ron's thighs, continuing to swirl his hips, grinding lower and lower against the prominent bulge he could feel. He finally sat on Ron's lap and ground himself down hard, eliciting a loud moan.

"Thought you'd like that, Weasley. Want me to ride you until you cum? Is that why you're here? Just another desperate bloke."

Ron was startled, by the crass words, yes, but more so by Draco's tone. It was a tone Ron knew all too well and it set his teeth on edge. Something had gotten under Draco's skin, and he had no idea what it was. As much as he wanted Draco, he wasn't about to put up with his ire.

He gripped Draco's hips, stilling his movements. With his voice holding the hard edge he had perfected during the war, he said, "Just what do you think you are doing, Malfoy?"

Draco snorted and tried to move, but Ron's hands tightened enough to bruise. Draco snarled, "Just giving you what you came for!"

Ron gasped as Draco managed to grind down onto his cock again, only making him more irritated. "I'm not in the habit of soliciting sex with men in clubs," Ron stated, "no matter what _you_ may be accustomed to. Do you make use of these rooms often?

"Never thought a Malfoy would behave like a common whore." Ron saw the fury his comment sparked, and he easily caught the hand that reared back in preparation to strike. "What gave you the idea that _this_ ," he slid his free hand lower and squeezed Draco's arse hard, "was what I wanted?"

Draco laughed, cold and cruel. "I rather think your cock gave it away, Weasel. On top of everything else, you said you didn't come looking for me, but once you found me, you certainly couldn't stay away. For months, you've drooled over every one of my shows. I was simply getting tired of waiting for you to make your move." He tried again to get away, but Ron held firm, now furious in his own right.

Draco huffed, his voice shaking as he said, "That's all you see isn't it? An easy piece of arse, right? A stripper must be a whore, and me getting you off to boot. Would give you quite the story to tell back home. That's the only reason you've become such a regular. Came for the show, sure. You've been playing the long game, I must say. That's a lot of work to put in for a shag."

"Shut. It," Ron gritted through his clenched teeth as he struggled to rein in his temper. This was not how he wanted things to go with Draco at all; though it did seem to be the way they always ended up. "You don't know what you're talking about, and you've allowed our prior relationship to cloud your judgment."

Draco scoffed. "You're going to deny you want to fuck me when I am sitting on the evidence of that very fact. Maybe you're not so clever after all."

"I'm not denying it, Draco. I do want to fuck you very badly, but that's not all I want."

"You are bloody well boring me now. Just fuck me already so we can move on and forget this ever happened. And if the great war hero is too big of a coward to do that, then get out of here and don't bother coming back. Just...just leave me in peace!"

Ron was taken aback by the force of Draco's outburst, his grip loosening momentarily.

Draco wasted no time taking advantage of the lapse, pushing himself free of Ron's lap. He hurried back to the controls, turning everything off before gasping in surprise when he found himself pressed against the wall by the larger, fit frame of one Ronald Weasley.

Ron had had enough; he was frustrated and fed up with whatever game Draco was playing. "Interesting choice of words there; you said 'so _we_ can move on.'"

Draco turned his head to the side, unwilling to meet Ron's calculating stare.

"I mean," Ron continued, "I'm not the one who arranged this room, am I?"

The muscle in Draco's jaw worked as he gritted his teeth, saying nothing.

Ron pulled back just enough to rake his hungry gaze over Draco's form. Bracing himself with one hand on the wall behind Draco's head, he leaned in close letting his breath tickle Draco's neck and ear; one finger of his free hand running along the delicate chain linking Draco's tempting nipples.

"As I see it," Ron began, "I'm not the only one who appears to want something." He gave one end of the chain a sudden tug, enjoying Draco's gasp as his hips bucked forward.

Draco looked at him then, his eyes on fire, but he remained silent.

"Don't bother trying to deny it." Ron ground his pelvis against Draco's erection, noticeable despite the leather shorts holding it in check. "I'm also not the only one whose cock appears to be talking for him."

Draco's tried not to moan, biting his tongue and clamping his lips into a thin white line, but a sound very much like a hungry hum still escaped, bringing a knowing smile to Ron's face.

"Tell me I'm wrong," Ron goaded.

Draco was brimming with equal parts arousal and frustration; his evening not exactly going as planned. He couldn't escape Ron and his damnable well-built body, and honestly, he didn't want to. But he'd be damned before he let the git know. "Well, you just have all the answers don't you, Weasley? I don't have to tell you a bloody thing."

Ron smiled. "Oh, I don't have it completely worked out, just yet, but I think I am getting there fast." Ron's left hand moved from the wall to the back of Draco's head while his right reached around to grasp one taut buttock, pulling Draco closer until he could feel Draco's rapid breaths against his lips.

His voice a low growl, Ron said, "And you should know that I am far from a coward."

Draco shivered beneath Ron's grasp as Ron twisted his fingers in Draco's shoulder-length hair and pulled him forward, crushing their lips together in a hard kiss. A kiss far more possessive than either wizard would have expected. Ron claimed Draco's smug, sneering mouth, which had tormented his fantasies for months now. He wasn't going to play any longer; he was going to make sure they both got what they wanted.

Just when Draco began to relax into the kiss and respond, Ron pulled away, spinning Draco's pliant form, only to shove him against the wall once more. Draco opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, Ron pressed Draco's chest into the wall with one palm planted between his shoulder blades, while his free hand caressed Draco's arse. Ron hummed appreciatively as he reached for the zipper on one side of Draco's shorts.

"Since you asked so nicely, how 'bout I see exactly what's on offer," Ron whispered into Draco's ear. The rasp of metal as Ron also unzipped the other side of Draco's shorts was followed by Draco's soft gasp as the garment fell to the floor.

Ron studied the cut-out fishnet stockings and the pieces of the leather shorts for the show and snorted. "Convenient. Ease of access. Everything a 'desperate bloke' could ask for."

Draco blushed hotly, suppressing a moan as Ron's large hand squeezed his naked arse. No matter how much he wanted Ron, condescension from him was not something he was prepared to tolerate.

"You're a bloody tosser!" Draco threw the insult over his shoulder as his booted foot did its best to make contact somewhere on Ron's leg; an action Ron sidestepped with a chuckle.

Leaning in close, Ron nuzzled Draco's jaw briefly before catching an earlobe in his teeth. "We'll just see about that." His index finger traced the crease of Draco's arse, slipping down to press against the tight furl, prompting a whine from Draco and a soft growl from Ron.

Since they were alone, Ron wasn't worried about doing a bit of magic and whispered a lubrication charm against Draco's neck. Wasting no time, he pushed one finger into Draco's tight passage, earning him a surprised and most un-Malfoy-like yelp. He may have limited experience, but he hadn't lived with the twins all this time without learning a thing or two.

Ron used his finger carefully while his free hand drifted down from Draco's shoulder blades to rub soothing circles into his lower back with his thumb as he worked a second finger in.

Draco hissed softly despite Ron's care, only to moan loudly a moment later as Ron managed to brush his prostate.

"You're certainly tighter than expected for a man so freely offering his charms to another," Ron commented, thrusting his fingers into Draco's arse harder, his feelings of jealousy surging to the fore, "but that's not going to stop me from fucking you."

Draco grunted and moaned; despite how eager he was for Ron to continue, he replied, "Piss off! If you think I'm a whore, you can bloody well leave." He had never been to these rooms before, never even offered a lap dance, let alone his arse for buggering. But he wanted to feel Ron's touch; he wanted to feel Ron inside him. He wanted Ron to want him, and this might be his only chance.

Ron paused at Draco's words, answering seriously. "I never said you were."

Spelling some extra lubrication, Ron reached his left hand around to grip Draco's cock as he inserted a third finger and stroked Draco's shaft.

Draco bucked sharply from the dual sensations of intense pleasure and burning pain, a whispered "yes" escaping his lips

"Liked that, did you?" Ron asked in a low voice. "Do you enjoy being stretched wide open?" He watched Draco's head shaking from side to side in denial, even as the cock in his hand gave a strong pulse. "Don't lie to me. I can see how much you want it." He pumped his fingers into Draco's body with more force, twisting them against the sensitive rim over and over until Draco shuddered with a needy moan. "Ready for more? Ready for my cock? Tell me how much you want it."

"Not on your life, Weasley. I'm not gonna beg you to fuck me." But Draco shifted so he could brace his forearms against the wall, and then he arched his back, presenting his arse to Ron. He wanted to cum, and he absolutely wanted Ron's cock inside him, but he wasn't about to tell the ruddy git.

Ron laughed, releasing Draco's cock and pulling his fingers out with a wet slurp. "I believe you already did." Ron reached for his flies, quickly releasing his long neglected cock from his pants, groaning loudly as he stroked his fingers along its thickness. Spreading some of the extra lubrication before he stepped closer to Draco, he let his hard length lay along the crease of Draco's arse and began rocking against his perfectly rounded globes.

Draco whined under his breath at the loss of Ron's fingers, but his innate stubbornness wouldn't let him keep quiet. "Actually, I never begged; I believe I demanded."

"Oh, right. The spoiled brat demanded I fuck him and called me a coward." Ron leaned against Draco's back, pressing them together as both hands came around to slide up Draco's lean chest and pinch his sensitive nipples.

Ignoring Draco's snarl he continued, "While I'm not in favor of humoring demanding brats, I simply can't tolerate such a challenge and slur upon my character." He spread Draco's cheeks with his thumbs and pressed his shaft against the prepared entrance, "so you're going to get exactly what you asked for." He pushed.

Despite the preparations, Draco was still tight, squeezing him as he sank steadily into the narrow passage. Ron feared he might cum before he was even fully sheathed, but he gritted his teeth, keeping up the slow steady pressure until he bottomed out. He pressed his forehead against Draco's back, blowing out the breath he had been holding while they adjusted to each other.

With one cheek pressed to the wall and his eyes closed, Draco panted shallowly as he processed what his body was feeling, speared as he was by a huge cock. Ron rolled his hips against Draco's bum, testing their readiness, and a soft "fuck" fell from Draco's lips as his fingers curled against the wall.

A feral smile crossed Ron's face as he ground his cock into Draco's arse with a slow circle of his hips, drawing out a needy moan.

Draco thought Ron meant to torment him rather than fuck him as he continued to roll his hips, stimulating and teasing Draco's prostate without difficulty.

Ron waited, remaining silent and controlled as he took Draco to pieces. Draco was going to go mad; he was already overstimulated but without the push he needed to send him into orgasm.

Gathering himself together with a deep breath, Draco let his body relax into Ron's control. "Please, Ron."

All motion stilled as Ron pressed his chest along Draco's back, warm breath ghosting over Draco's pale nape as he spoke. "Please what, Draco? I said you'd get exactly what you wanted. You just have to tell me what it is."

Draco groaned, shaking his head against his forearms as he gave in to his desires and begged. "Please fuck me properly, you ruddy git. Just get on with it." He was suddenly bereft of the warm weight of Ron's body and the fullness of Ron's cock as both withdrew. Draco was on the verge of yelling when two matching sharp smacks blistered his arse, causing him to suck his breath in surprise.

"That's for being rude," Ron declared. "As for your request, it will be my pleasure."

Ron's thick cock sank home in one hard thrust. Draco found himself scrabbling for purchase as, unlike the careful approach of moments ago, Ron proceeded to pound his shaft into him like a battering ram.

After several strokes, Ron pulled nearly all the way out, pausing only until he heard Draco's whimper of need before slamming into him again. It was exactly what Draco wanted. If he had thought he was overstimulated before, he knew without a doubt he wouldn't be able to last against this onslaught for long.

Ron was high on the heat and sounds of Draco's body as he buried himself deep over and over again. He only wished he could make this last longer but resigned himself to hoping there might be a chance for them another time. His left hand reached for Draco's cock once more as his right twisted into Draco's sweaty hair, pulling his head back until his back was bowed beautifully. Every stroke of Ron's cock forcing a guttural grunt from Draco's lips.

"I have to say," Ron panted, "I love the way you sound when I'm fucking you."

Draco moaned at the roughness, at the stimulation of Ron's calloused fingers over his weeping cock. He realized he must look like a wanton slut at this point, begging and moaning for this particular man to fuck him, but somehow, he no longer cared. "So close...harder. Harder, please!"

Ron pulled until Draco was nearly upright, pressed against Ron's chest as his cock pistoned into Draco's tight heat. He wasn't sure what brought out this aggressive aspect of his personality, but Draco didn't appear to be complaining, groaning loudly in response to the change of position and depth of penetration. Ron stroked Draco's cock with strong, steady pressure, growling against Draco's pale neck as they both approached their limits.

"Tell me when you're ready," Ron urged.

Draco could barely form words at this point, but he managed a slight nod in reply. The layers of stimulation brought him to his peak only moments later. "Now!" he managed to rasp out as he felt his orgasm cresting.

Ron continued fucking him hard and without pause but released Draco's cock and reached for the chain hanging from his nipples. He gave it a sharp pull, driving Draco screaming over the edge into a forceful orgasm.

Ron snarled as he held himself deep in Draco's body, reveling in the rhythmic squeezing around his cock as he rode out Draco's orgasm. With sharp, rapid strokes, he resumed fucking in earnest as the pulsing waves began to fade, chasing his own release. He ground his cock deep into Draco's arse, relishing Draco's mewls, and soon was filling him with pulse after pulse of hot cum.

Both men sought support from the wall and each other as the aftershocks subsided and they caught their breath. It had been everything they both wanted, and now, they didn't know what to say to each other.

Ron moved first as his cock softened and slipped from its previous home. Draco's arse twitched around the emptiness, Ron's seed oozing out of its well-stretched hole and over Draco's perineum. Ron couldn't help but take a moment to appreciate the view before he cast a cleansing charm for the both of them.

Draco managed to turn around, leaning heavily against the wall when the supporting weight of Ron's body was gone. He glanced down at his leather shorts, uncertain if he could bend down to get them.

Ron caught Draco's expression, his prior anger forgotten as he gathered Draco's garment for him. He was about to hold it out when he took the time to really look at Draco. The man looked well and truly fucked. Ron could still see fine tremors in Draco's limbs and noticed that he hadn't bothered to move.

Expecting any verbal offer of help to be met with derision and snark, Ron stepped forward and dressed Draco, reluctantly covering Draco's beautiful cock and arse. He hoped it would not be the last time he ever got to see it.

Stepping back, Ron opened his mouth, trying to coax words from his throat, but nothing would come out. His mouth snapped shut as he gave up, looking helplessly at Draco, who did not appear to be doing much better. Giving Ron a silent nod of farewell, Draco left, walking stiffly but steadily out of room ten, leaving Ron to wonder if Draco was saying goodbye for good.

{*} {*} {*}

Draco didn't understand why Ron showed up again the very next weekend, watching and then leaving as he always had done before. He wasn't sure if he should feel insulted by this or not. He spent the previous week trying not to dwell on the incredible sex and dreading the moment his secrets would be plastered across the front page of the _Daily Prophet_. It was just his luck that the one wizard who had stumbled upon the world he used as his escape had to be one of the Golden Trio; a wizard he was attracted to when he should know better. Still, nothing ever happened; Ron never said one word. Draco really didn't understand.

It took a month of Ron's silent appearance at shows and an utter absence of news for Draco to realize Ron wasn't blabbing their encounter all over the Wizarding world. He finally conceded that he may have misjudged Ron Weasley; offering the olive branch of a drink after the show the following weekend to say thanks for his silence. It took another month of drinks and conversation before Draco agreed to date Ron properly, and another two after that before he invited him back to the flat he shared with the other dancers. Ron's patience and discretion was more than well rewarded in bed _that_ weekend. In time, they began to cautiously date in the Wizarding world.

While they had come to terms with their past, everyone else had not, so they took it slow in the eyes of their peers. But their other life, the one spent at the club, was when they were truly happy and flourished; it was their own little secret, and they liked it that way.

If Dragon's fans ever happened to notice a suspicious sheen of moisture on his cheeks during a performance, it was because he well and truly belonged to the tall, buff ginger wearing a confident and knowing smile during every performance. Room ten had become Draco's favorite pre-show warm-up, and neither man could be any happier about that.

{*} {*} {*}


End file.
